Page 142 of Ruled By The Alpha

He’s my Alpha. There’s no one in the Mother’s wide world I trust more.

“Of course.”

He swallows, his Adam’s apple working in his strong throat. “I-if our situations were reversed, Kieran, I’m not sure I’d let you take away my sight.”

“That’s because you fear what you don’t know. I have no such fear. I want you to remember today without shame or humiliation.”

He runs the backs of his claws down my cheek. “I remember the girl under the sage bush being sharp and sweet in turns, and making me laugh so hard my ribs hurt. But kindness, that I did not remember. Your kindness humbles me, Omega. Close your eyes.”

I sit back on my heels, lift my chin, and take my last sight of him. He wraps the sash twice around my head, crisscrossing over my eyes. Although I can’t imagine him having much experience with blindfolds, he fixes it expertly. It’s neither so tight that it presses painfully, nor so loose that I can see below the bottom edge. He tucks the ends back through the ligature, letting them dangle by my cheeks, so I feel the brush of softfabric with every movement, my other senses heightened by the loss of my sight.

His fingers drop away from my head; I hear the creak and rustle of leather. Then his hands return, cupping my shoulders, drifting up and down the column of my throat, learning my shape. He traces a V at the base of my throat, where I’m no-doubt still brown from the sun through the lacing of my riding tunic. The backs of his claws, smooth and warm but leaving goosebumps in their wake, trail down to my breasts. He weighs what little there is of them in his palms.

“They might be more pleasing after a babe or two,” I say, understanding a little of his embarrassment.

“They’re pleasing now,” he says, his voice low and rough. “I didn’t realize how much I’d like this, Kieran. To look and touch as much as I wish, wherever I wish, without you watching me. Does that reflect ill on me?”

I reach out and find his arm, follow it up to his face, and cup his cheek. “No. There’s freedom in it.”

“There is. And desire.” He catches my hand and guides it down to his lap. I spread my fingers when I feel the brush of heated, pulsing flesh. Groping gently—so I don’t startle him if he’s only ever felt his own touch—I find his contours. I smooth my fingertips over the tapered flange of his tip, rubbing my thumb through the early wetness of his outcome. Unable to resist, I lift my hand to my face and lick his taste off my fingertips.

“A ripe oyster?” he asks. “Or a rotten one?”

I laugh, delighted. There’s nothing offensive to his smell or taste. It’s the sea breeze on my lips, flavored with that greenness I associate with him. “Your seed tastes of sage.”

“I grew that bush,” he admits, murmuring low. “My Gift is nearly silent. I cannot move Earth. The rocks do not speak to me. But in the heat of that day, I found a small sage plant and saw inmy mind what it could be. I put my hands on it and it grew up into a great bush. When you crawled under it with me, I knew my Gift blossomed only for you, my mate.”

I gape at him. “You’re Gifted?”

He slips a finger over my lips. “Shh. It’s not something I dare speak aloud, even around my uncle. The King and his advisors believe they can bring out Gifts using... harsh measures. I don’t fear battle, but I fear what they’d do to me, trying to bring out a Gift that’s no use to anyone but a farmer. My Gift is the opposite of my sword. It’s life, not death. Growing, not reaping. It has no place in war. Some day, when the King sits easy on his throne, I’ll be free to come to you. You’ll bring out my Gift with your kind touch, your sweet words. I’ll use it to grow you flowers, fruit, fields of grain. Until then, let it sleep. Say nothing to anyone.”

I nod and kiss the finger across my lips.

“Any child I give you might be Gifted, but it’s easily explained by Justlinn’s blood. High magic runs strong in House Tomarr. Justlinn only has the healing touch, but my father could move the Earth. He could open chasms with a clap of his hands. The mountains themselves rumbled when he was in a rage. Do you understand why I fear the King and his advisors discovering I carry even a shadow of my father’s Gift? They’d break me trying to draw out what I don’t have.”

“I understand,” I whisper against his finger.

“Do you want a child now, Kieran?” he asks, his rumble so low I strain to hear him.

“I’m not in Heat, so it’s unlikely, but I’d never refuse the Mother’s gift,” I murmur.

“This would be my Gift.” His hand drops to flatten against my belly. “I can quicken our seeds even without your Heat. I want this. I’ve burned for it since first scenting you today.” Perhaps it’s only my imagination, but his hand on my belly sends a pulse of heat to inflame my womb. “But I won’t. Not unless youagree. I won’t leave you alone to bear my child alone while I go off to war.”

I place my hand over his. “Ask me in the morning.”

“Why in the morning?”

“Because I burn for you, too. In the morning, we’ll both have cooled enough to make the right decision.”

“You burn for me?”

The sweet uncertainty in his tone sends more spiraling warmth through my blood than his Gift.

I nod. “Hotter than the fiercest forge.”

“Then touch me again,” he says, guiding my hand back to his cock, which has lost none of its pride. I wrap my fingers around it gently, smoothing the wetness leaking from the tip down his shaft.

When he rumbles deep in his chest, but doesn’t protest, I work my hand up and down, earning a deep groan. “Burn with me.”

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